


Game of Life and Death

by multifandommess



Category: South Park
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mysterion plays Russian Roulette with a robber and Stan and Kyle are Not Pleased, Some descriptions of Kenny's deaths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 00:45:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17415743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/multifandommess/pseuds/multifandommess
Summary: “By the time Kenny McCormick was in his first year of middle school, he had long since become jaded towards the thought of death.”Kenny has resigned himself to an eternity of death and revival with no one to remember his suffering, but all it takes to break down the walls he put up is Stan and Kyle suddenly confessing to having memories that they shouldn’t have.





	Game of Life and Death

**Author's Note:**

> Written about a year ago
> 
> I wanted to write Kenny being loved and taken care of and I ended up writing Mysterion playing Russian Roulette and nearly giving Stan and Kyle heart attacks in the process lmao but all's well that ends well I guess

****By the time Kenny McCormick was in his first year of middle school, he had long since become jaded towards the thought of death.

Going from elementary school to middle school wasn’t nearly as large of a change as his friends had initially feared, and their usual group of four (or five, whenever Butters was around) had adjusted to the new classes and teachers fairly quickly, allowing them to fall back into their old routines and habits with only a few minor changes here and there.

One of the biggest changes, Kenny observed, was Stan and Kyle’s relationship. The two had always been close friends, closer than anyone in their entire school (save for maybe Craig and Tweek, but even then the two had only been dating for two years as opposed to the lifetime of Super Best Friendship that Stan and Kyle had), and it seemed that Wendy breaking up with Stan for the umpteenth time right before graduation had been the final push for Stan to focus more of his attention on Kyle--which, ironically, was what Wendy had been accusing him of doing to begin with.

Absolutely no one was surprised by the sudden change in chemistry between Stan and Kyle, least of all Kenny. (There had even been a betting pool going since the beginning of the fifth grade for when the two would come out of the closet, which Kenny happily collected on the first day that the two Super Best Friends had come into school holding hands.) He had been one of the first to notice the looks that the two began giving one another, the small touches that lingered for longer than necessary, the slight flush to their faces and the smiles that seemed to be reserved for one another….

Honestly, Kenny really was happy for his two best friends, but he couldn’t quite squash that small, bitter part of his mind that whispered to him as he lay dying for the third time this week (a bookshelf falling on him in the school library, a wild animal tearing out his throat in the park at night, and now a jagged glass bottle had been stabbed into his chest by a drunken homeless person near his house) that the two were probably off making out somewhere while he was here suffering by himself, as usual.

Of course, Kenny woke up the next morning same as always, no scars or injuries or signs that he’d been so much as scratched the previous night, and he sighed as he went through the usual routine of getting himself and Karen ready for school.

(Kenny wasn’t exactly God’s biggest fan, but if he had to thank Him for anything it would be for his angel of a younger sister--memories or not, she always seemed to know when something bad happened to him, and it was a small but welcome comfort whenever she gave him an extra-long hug the next morning after a particularly painful death.)

Kenny brought Karen to school before joining up with his friends, who asked him how his night was, completely unaware as usual of what he’d been through.

He could tell them that he spent the night with glass shards cutting deep into his chest, the blood slowly draining from his body until his heart gave out and his consciousness faded away… but of course, there was no point in being honest when no one would believe him.

Kenny smiled humorlessly, the expression hidden behind the hood of his parka.

“Same as always.”

* * *

Stan could never put his finger on it, but there had always been something about Kenny that bothered him.

Not in a bad way, of course--he cared deeply about Kenny, second only to Kyle as far as his friends went. It was more like there was a wall in between Kenny and the rest of them, like he had a secret that no one else was privy to; and sometimes when Stan’s eyes met Kenny’s, he felt as if he were staring into the eyes of a hardened adult instead of someone his own age.

He couldn’t understand why the thought made his heart clench so painfully, nor why it made him feel like he was forgetting something important.

Stan was hesitant to discuss these odd feelings with anyone, but when they slipped out one night during a sleepover with Kyle, he was relieved to hear that his best friend (and boyfriend, he supposed, though they hadn’t officially taken on that label just yet) felt the same way.

It was something that bothered them both well into their first year of middle school, but it was only when Stan was cleaning out his bedroom at the beginning of their second year and found an old notebook buried in the bottom of one of his drawers that everything finally fell into place.

Kyle had rushed over as soon as he picked up his phone and heard Stan sobbing, and as soon as he reached Stan’s room he read through the journal that was shoved into his hands without any further prompting: it detailed Stan’s thoughts while Kenny suffered and died from his terminal illness, the days of trying to find a replacement friend for Kenny because it just didn’t feel right not having a group of four people, building a ladder to Heaven and Kenny’s soul being inside Cartman after the fatass drank his ashes, Chef trying to help them find a spirit medium to separate Kenny’s soul from Cartman’s body… and then the entries abruptly stopped, and everything clicked in Kyle’s mind as all the memories came rushing back.

Kenny died, and they forgot.

For years, Kenny had been dying repeatedly, and neither he nor Stan had remembered despite being right there to witness so many of his countless deaths.

Kyle hugged Stan tightly, feeling the tears burning behind his closed eyes as he recalled Mysterion’s reaction to his offhand comment about his “superpower” all those years ago: he remembered feeling, for the first time, afraid of his friend as Kenny got in his face and spelled out all the different ways he’d been killed with enough detail and enough emotion to make Kyle’s stomach turn, and he remembered the desperation in his friend’s eyes and voice as he watched him lift a gun to his head and--

Kyle squeezed Stan tighter, and he knew without needing to say a word that Stan had been thinking along the same lines as him as he felt Stan grip him tighter in return.

“... We have to talk to him.”

Kyle’s voice broke the silence, and he felt rather than saw Stan nod in agreement moments before the dark haired boy pulled back enough to press a kiss to Kyle’s lips, unsure of whether he was trying to offer comfort or seek it.

It was with heavy minds and heavy hearts that the two crawled into bed and held each other, wondering if their friend went to bed every night with this same crushing weight on his chest, suffering in silence as he prepared himself for another day of smiles, laughter, and potential forgotten deaths.

* * *

Kenny knew as soon as he met up with his friends that something was off.

To be fair, Stan and Kyle were doing a fairly good job of hiding whatever it was, and he wouldn’t have noticed if his senses hadn’t been heightened over the years from the constant dangers he was exposed to, but the fact of the matter still stood. Still, Kenny would have been content to let it go--after all, considering the secret he’d been keeping himself, it would be pretty hypocritical of him to get mad about the two of them keeping something between themselves--except he could feel their eyes on him when they thought he wasn’t looking, and after a few hours of being watched without any clue as to _why_ he was being watched so closely, his patience was beginning to run a little thin.

Thankfully, as soon as the school day was over, Stan and Kyle quickly approached him with the obvious intent of getting whatever they were fretting over off of their chests, and Kenny was more than ready to hear them out if only to get them to stop looking at him like he’d disappear if they blinked.

“Kenny, want to come over to my house?”

Stan’s question was phrased as a suggestion, but from the looks on both his and Kyle’s faces, there wasn’t much room for arguing--not that Kenny was planning on arguing in the first place, since he probably would have ended up going to Stan’s house to hang out regardless.

“Sure, let’s go.”

The relief on their faces was almost as amusing as their obvious satisfaction when--as if to answer their silent prayers--Cartman’s mother picked him up from school to drag him off kicking and screaming to a doctor’s appointment, and Kenny hid a smile behind the hood of his parka as he started walking. Obviously whatever they wanted to talk about didn’t involve Cartman, which he supposed was for the best, since Kyle and Cartman could hardly ever get through a conversation without it devolving into an off-topic argument.

Kenny was slightly confused when Stan and Kyle both walked on either side of him instead of walking next to one another, though he couldn’t exactly complain as he grinned and slipped an arm around each of their shoulders.

“So, you two going to tell me why you’ve been checking me out all day, or should I assume that you both fell for me?” he teased, enjoying the light blush on Stan’s face and the darker blush on Kyle’s face.

“We haven’t been checking you out!” Kyle replied quickly, his expression an adorable cross between embarrassed and annoyed that Kenny enjoyed seeing more than he probably should.

“We just had some… stuff we wanted to talk to you about,” Stan added, maintaining his composure much to Kenny’s disappointment. “Stuff that we couldn’t really bring up at school.”

Kenny raised an eyebrow, his interest admittedly piqued. “Okay, unless you’re both going to confess your love to me, I’m not too sure what you guys could have to say that’s important enough that it has to be said in private.”

Unfortunately neither of his two friends rose to the bait, prompting a frown from Kenny as he examined the two of them worriedly. “Seriously though, did something happen? Are you two alright?” His protective instincts quickly began to flare up at the thought of someone hurting either of them, and he pulled them a bit closer without thinking--it was his job as both their close friend and the town hero to protect Stan and Kyle (a mantle he still wore proudly despite everyone else growing out of the superhero game), and he didn’t think he’d be able to forgive himself if anything happened to them.

“We’re alright,” Stan reassured Kenny as they began walking across the street, putting a hand on his arm and giving it a light squeeze.

Kyle was about to add more when the sound of a horn blaring cut him off, and he only had a second to catch Kenny’s resigned smile before he was abruptly shoved backwards along with Stan.

Kenny caught sight of the truck that was barreling down the street just as they stepped foot onto the crosswalk, and he immediately knew what was going to happen.

“Sorry, maybe I’ll find out what you wanted to tell me tomorrow,” he muttered with a humorless expression after his friends had been safely pushed out of the path of the truck, knowing that in a matter of seconds it would hit him with enough force to crush most--if not all--of the bones in his body.

Just as his eyes drifted shut, they shot back open in shock as two pairs of hands grabbed his parka and roughly yanked him backwards. The rush of wind from the truck speeding by blew his loosened hood back, completely revealing his bewildered expression as he stared at the spot where he should have been killed.

“Kenny! Kenny, oh god, you almost got killed!”

Stan’s voice snapped Kenny out of his daze, and he looked up in time to see Kyle glaring in the direction of the speeding truck.

“You bastard!!”

Kenny looked between Stan and Kyle, still feeling numb from shock as he tried to process that he was still alive. When was the last time that someone had stepped in and saved him from dying? Kenny knew there had to have been at least one or two times mixed in with the hundreds upon thousands of deaths he went through in his life, but at the moment he genuinely couldn’t remember, nor could he figure out how to properly respond--him living or dying didn’t make much of a difference anyway, so why did they bother reaching out when he’d already pushed them to safety?

“Are you hurt, Kenny?”

Kyle and Stan were both inspecting him for injuries, neither of them seeming to care that they too had just narrowly escaped death--and again, Kenny wasn’t entirely sure how to react, though he was quick to pull his hood back up when he felt his face beginning to heat up from the genuine concern that he saw on both of his friends’ faces.

“I’m okay. Are you guys alright?” Kenny stood up and brushed himself off as he spoke, doing his best to shift the subject away from himself.

“We’re fine, thanks to you,” Stan replied, and Kyle nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, thank you.”

Kenny shrugged and gave his friends a smile. “Hey, you guys saved my ass too, so let’s just call it even.” He swung his arms around their shoulders once more and pulled them along, making sure to look carefully for any more speeding vehicles as they walked. “C’mon, let’s get going before anything else tries to kill us.”

He realized too late that his joke may have come off less amusing to his friends than it was to him after what nearly happened, but thankfully Stan and Kyle said nothing about it and kept walking without a fuss, the two of them pressing closer to Kenny than usual--though after what happened, he supposed he couldn’t blame them for being a bit shaken, and his protective instincts flared up once more as he gave their arms a light, reassuring squeeze.

Once they reached Stan’s house, Kenny reluctantly pulled away so that Stan could unlock the door, and the three of them went inside the empty house. Kenny made himself comfortable on the couch, a bit surprised yet pleased when Stan and Kyle sat down on each side of him once more.

“Well, you two are certainly making me feel special today,” Kenny joked, though his curiosity was growing by the second with how odd their behavior was.

Stan and Kyle both glanced at each other, having another one of their usual wordless conversations that Kenny could never hope to understand, before Stan reluctantly began to speak.

“Kenny… we wanted to talk to you about, well… about you.”

Kenny’s brows furrowed, his playful smile dying down slightly in confusion. “What about me?”

Kyle decided to pick up where Stan left off, one of his hands unconsciously coming to rest on Kenny’s leg as he met the blond’s gaze. Knowing that Kenny would lightheartedly brush off any attempts at beating around the bush, Kyle’s words were straight to the point, though spoken in a soft tone.

“About how you died.”

With just those four words, time seemed to screech to a halt, and Kenny wasn’t even sure he was breathing anymore as he stared at Kyle, wondering if maybe he misheard him or misunderstood him.

“Y… you mean about how I almost died just now? I’m pretty sure there’s not much to talk about since you were there, but--”

“Kenny.” Stan’s voice somehow managed to be soft and firm at the same time as he cut him off, and Kenny immediately fell quiet, allowing Stan to speak. “Kenny, we… I was cleaning my room last night, and I found a journal that I started keeping after… after you died from that terminal illness a few years ago. I read it, and suddenly I remembered everything.”

“Stan called me over after he read it,” Kyle picked up seamlessly. “He gave it to me to read, and... it’s like all these memories I didn’t even know I was missing just came rushing back.”

Kenny looked back and forth between the two of them, trying to figure out if this was some sort of trick, or some sort of huge misunderstanding that his mind was conveniently interpreting as something he’d wanted to hear for years. Finally, he managed to work past the lump that had mysteriously appeared in his throat as he quietly spoke. “You guys… seriously remember?”

“Yes, and we’re so sorry.”

Stan was the first to reach out and hug Kenny, and Kyle quickly followed suit, the two of them sandwiching Kenny between them in a tight hug. Kenny could feel the tears burning behind his closed eyes, and he shakily gripped their arms to return their hug, his mind reeling as he tried to take in what his two friends had just told him.

They remembered.

Someone finally remembered.

Kenny wasn’t sure when the tears started slipping out, but by the time he became conscious of them he was already sobbing, and had somehow been shifted so his face was buried against Stan and Kyle’s shoulders as the two of them whispered tearful reassurances and ran their hands along his back and shoulders comfortingly. At some point his hood had been pushed back--a physical wall being carefully taken down to match the emotional wall that was crumbling away--and fingers were running through his hair as lips pressed against the top of his head, and he clung to his two friends until his pent up anguish began drying up along with his tears.

Even after his tears died down and his sobs faded to hiccups, he could still feel his two friends offering him the love and support he’d always assumed that they reserved for each other; and as much as he wanted to pull back and try to regain some small semblance of dignity, he’d been craving the physical and emotional warmth that they emanated for so long that he found himself pressing closer to them instead of pulling away.

“Thank you,” Kenny murmured, his voice soft and muffled against his friends’ shoulders.

Kenny felt too drained to protest as he felt himself being moved, his face flushing lightly as Stan gently cupped his cheek and wiped away some of the tears on his face. It was obvious that Stan had been crying as well, probably almost as hard as Kenny himself had been, and when Kenny glanced over at Kyle he could surprisingly see some fresh tear tracks on his face as well.

“Kenny, god….” Stan’s voice hitched as a hiccup slipped out, further proof that the empathetic boy had been sobbing along with Kenny. “We’re so sorry, you’ve been suffering by yourself for so long, and we had no idea….”

Kenny smiled humorlessly. “You couldn’t have known, it’s not your fault.”

“Because of the curse?” Kyle asked quietly, and Kenny’s gaze shifted over to him, his heart clenching as he saw the pained guilt in Kyle’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Kenny murmured, moving to rest his forehead against Kyle’s as he recalled the exact moment that he knew was on the redhead’s mind. “I… that was a moment of weakness on my part, but I never should have taken it out on you like I did. I already knew that there was no way you could have remembered, and it wasn’t fair of me to be angry with you or anyone else.”

“But we remember now.” Kyle’s eyes met Kenny’s, his hand moving to grip Kenny’s reassuringly. “We remember, and we won’t forget again.”

“And even if we do forget, we can just remind ourselves with my journal,” Stan added after drying his face with his sleeve, putting a hand on Kenny’s shoulder and giving him a confident smile when the blond turned to look at him. “We’ll keep making sure that we remember no matter what it takes, curse or no curse.”

Kenny’s expression softened as he glanced between his two friends, and while he knew that the best thing to do would be to find Stan’s journal and burn it to make sure that they’d never be burdened with the memories of his deaths again if they did end up forgetting, the childish, more selfish side of him didn’t want to let go of what he’d finally gained after all these years: just the simple knowledge that there was someone in the world that remembered him, that understood the suffering he went through and that would be by his side to make sure he was alright the next day instead of acting like nothing ever happened.

“... Those memories are a large burden to carry, you know,” he said after a moment. “I don’t know how many of my deaths you remember, or how much detail, but now that you’re aware you’ll probably end up remembering everything for better or for worse--and my deaths are usually pretty gruesome. I’d understand if you would rather just get rid of the journal and--”

He was cut off by Stan and Kyle both hugging him tightly, his eyes widening slightly in surprise.

“We’re not getting rid of the damn journal! I’ll keep it somewhere safe to make sure nothing happens to it!”

Stan tightened his grip on Kenny and buried his face in the blond’s hair, and Kyle buried his face in the crook of Kenny’s neck.

“If the memories are a large burden, then it makes more sense for us to share that burden with you,” Kyle added, and Kenny’s face began heating up as he felt Kyle’s breath on his skin, distracting him enough to prevent him from coming up with a response. “You’ve carried that burden by yourself for long enough. Please, if we can’t do anything else, then at least let us do that much for you.”

Kenny felt his eyes beginning to burn once more with unshed tears, and he finally gave in with a nod as he gripped his friends tightly, suddenly afraid that if he let go he’d lose this moment forever--he knew in his heart that his sanity wouldn’t last very long if he had to go back to being the only one who remembered his deaths after finally having someone acknowledge and remember his suffering.

As if sensing his fear, Stan and Kyle resumed their gentle reassurances, and Kenny could feel himself melting against his two friends as their comforting touches expanded to soft kisses on his forehead, over his closed eyelids, along his tearstained cheeks--again, he knew this was something they normally reserved for one another, something he thought he would never be able to experience for himself, yet they were freely and wholeheartedly offering it to him as if they knew without him saying a word that it was what he needed most.

Kenny was only vaguely aware of dozing off as he felt himself being moved and picked up in someone’s arms ( _Stan’s arms_ , he acknowledged in his half-asleep state as he buried his face against his chest), and he felt himself being set down on a comfortable bed moments before two bodies laid down and pressed against him from either side. The warmth and comforting presence of his two best friends was enough to finally ease Kenny into a deep, peaceful sleep, and for the first time in his life he didn’t dread the thought of waking up.

* * *

The two weeks that followed were probably the most peaceful and enjoyable weeks in Kenny’s whole life: there was no danger, no deaths, and at some point he had found himself included in Stan and Kyle’s developing (yet amusingly still unlabeled, despite how obvious they were) relationship.

“Is it weird for the three of us to be doing this?” Kyle had asked one afternoon, after Kenny had kissed his lips while Stan trailed kisses along the back of Kyle’s neck.

Kenny smiled and shrugged. “Is anything ever not weird in this town?”

That seemed to be enough of an answer to put Kyle’s worries (and Stan’s, though he hadn’t voiced them) to rest, and Kenny was more than happy to return to kissing Kyle before leaning around him and pressing a kiss to Stan’s lips.

Their comfortable relationship persisted despite the worries in the back of his mind that Stan and Kyle would wake up one morning and forget everything, and after a particularly good day at work that left him with a bit more pocket money than usual, Kenny called up Stan and told him and Kyle that he was taking them out on a proper date.

Unfortunately even with the extra pocket money, the only sort of “date” that he could afford for three people was at Whistlin’ Willy’s, but Stan and Kyle both insisted that they were happy with spending the night out eating pizza and playing arcade games--it was more fun and more relaxing than going to a stuffy restaurant, which suited the three of them perfectly.

Of course, fate had to rear its ugly head, reminding him that he was cursed to never have a life of peace and safety as an armed man burst in hardly a few minutes after they sat down at a table and demanded that everyone get down on the ground.

Kenny reacted on instinct, grabbing Stan and Kyle and shoving them under the table for safety amongst the panicked screams, and he was about to go and confront the gunman when two pairs of hands grabbed him and pulled him down under the table as well.

“Guys--”

“Kenny, no.” Kyle’s stare was piercing, and that combined with the pleading look on Stan’s face caused him to give in with a sigh.

“Fine, but I’m keeping you two safe. If anything happens to you, it’s permanent, but even if I get hurt I can just kill myself and I’ll wake up tomorrow good as new.”

Kenny knew as soon as the words left his lips that he shouldn’t have said that as Stan’s expression shifted to horror, and Kyle’s expression shifted quickly from horror to a mixture of hurt, grief, and anger.

“Is that really how little you value your life? That you’d just go and _kill yourself_ because it’s more convenient than being hurt?”

“Kyle, this really isn’t the time--”

“I don’t _care_ if this isn’t the fucking time!” Kyle hissed, just barely keeping his voice down. “Promise me that you won’t kill yourself. Promise me that if you get hurt at any point, you’ll let yourself recover like every other person out there instead of throwing your life away, even if it’s just for one day.”

Kenny’s brows furrowed--he’d never once thought of killing himself as throwing his life away; it was just a way to reset his body for convenience’s sake. No one would remember anyway, so what would it matter?

_But they remember,_ he reminded himself. _They remember, and I can’t make that burden any worse for them._

“... I promise,” Kenny responded after a moment, taking one of Kyle’s hands and one of Stan’s hands so he could squeeze them both reassuringly, and he was relieved to see Kyle’s expression soften in gratitude.

Stan glanced out from under the table warily, his worry now shifting from Kenny’s safety to the safety of everyone else being held hostage in the building, and he only pulled his gaze away when he felt Kenny give his hand another reassuring squeeze.

“Everything will be alright,” Kenny reassured him, and for some reason that was all Stan needed to hear for him to relax.

Despite his reassurance, Kenny’s frame was still tense, his gaze calculating as he glanced around while trying not to draw attention to himself--he knew that Stan and Kyle weren’t going to be happy, but he had to do something to help, even if it was just stalling until the police could arrive.

When Kenny’s eyes came to rest on the man’s handgun, a plan came to mind, and he smiled wryly as he wondered just how long of a lecture he’d be in for from Kyle if this all worked out the way he intended--or if they’d ever forgive him for seemingly throwing his life away after just promising not to, for that matter.

He couldn’t help it, though--he’d always been a selfless person at heart, and it was how he always would be no matter what sort of suffering it put him through. He could only hope that they would understand that, even if they didn’t like it.

With Stan and Kyle’s focus being on the gunman barking his demands to the police over the Whistlin’ Willy’s landline phone and the employee cowering on the floor by the man’s feet, it was easy for him to silently slip away, carrying his bag with him and making it to the bathroom without anyone noticing. After years of practice, it took hardly any time at all to swap his regular clothes for the Mysterion outfit that he always kept with him, and the only warning that Kyle and Stan received was Kenny’s bag being covertly kicked back under the table with them seconds before Mysterion made himself known to the criminal.

“Who the hell are you?” The man pointed his gun at the oddly-dressed kid as he hung up the phone, his irritation growing as the boy showed no signs of fear.

“You must not be from around here if you don’t know who I am,” Mysterion responded, his low, gravelly voice coming out much more easily now that the effects of puberty had begun setting in. “My name is Mysterion, and I’m the protector of this town.”

The criminal stared at him for a moment before barking out a laugh. “Alright kid, real cute, but this ain’t no time to be playing superhero,” he remarked with a pointed wave of his gun, his expression faltering as he saw the smirk on the boy’s face.

“Oh, I’m not playing superhero--but you don’t have to worry about me trying to fight you. I can acknowledge when a situation isn’t in my favor.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Then why don’t you do yourself a favor and get down on the ground before I blow a hole through your head?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Mysterion took a step forward with a smirk still on his face, enjoying the way the criminal’s expression faltered to reveal a mixture of confusion and nervousness. The one good thing about spending all those years around Cartman, he idly supposed, was that he’d picked up on more methods of mental manipulation than someone his age should probably know, and it was obviously beginning to work as the criminal briefly forgot his control over the situation in favor of trying to figure out what Mysterion’s deal was.

“I have a better idea,” Mysterion continued, his tone as calm and confident as his expression. “Why don’t I keep you entertained until the cops arrive to meet your demands?”

Kyle let out an irritated hiss through his clenched teeth from under the table, while Stan gripped his hand tightly out of fear that Kyle would rush out and throttle Kenny before the gunman could even begin to be a threat to him.

“What the hell is he _doing?_ ” Kyle quietly exclaimed, his eyes not once leaving Kenny’s masked form, and Stan knew from the tenseness in Kyle’s frame that he was terrified and trying to cover it up with anger--something that Stan could wholeheartedly sympathize right now, since he himself wanted to give Kenny a good punch in the face for being so reckless.

For now, though, all the two of them could do was wait and watch, knowing that any attempts to get up and rush to their friend’s side would only end up getting him--along with themselves--potentially killed.

“Entertained, you say?” The gunman responded, and Mysterion could tell right away that he’d piqued the man’s interest. “Can’t say I’m a big fan of these money-eating arcade games, kid.”

“Oh no, I was thinking of something much more interesting than that.” Mysterion stared at the man, who followed the masked boy’s gaze to the gun in his hand. “How would you like to play a little Russian roulette?”

Stan had to force a hand over Kyle’s mouth to muffle his exclamation, practically laying on top of his best friend to stop him from rushing out.

“Dude, Kyle, please!” Stan whispered, barely keeping it together himself. “I’m not happy about this either, but just… just trust Kenny, okay? We have to trust him, he wouldn’t be doing something this dangerous if he didn’t have a plan.”

Kyle seemed to settle down a bit at that, though he remained just as tense as Stan as the two continued to observe their friend from under the table.

“I’d heard this backwards town was filled with some crazy people, I guess they weren’t kidding.” The criminal laughed, though Mysterion could see and hear nervousness creeping up on the man--he was almost there, he just had to push a few more buttons and he’d have this guy exactly where he wanted him.

“If you’re too afraid, we can just play a simpler game, and you can go on with your life knowing that you were too chicken to accept some kid’s challenge.”

Mysterion’s smirk widened as he saw the man’s expression twitch in irritation, and he knew he’d won this round.

Winning the next round, unfortunately, would be up to luck--but he still had a few more tricks up his sleeve, ones that would hopefully result in him leaving this place in one piece with Stan and Kyle instead of in a body bag.

“Fine, kid--you wanna play Russian roulette? We’ll play Russian roulette.” The criminal emptied the bullets out of his revolver pistol, catching one before it hit the floor and reloading it into the gun for Mysterion to see before giving the cylinder a spin. “It’ll be satisfying to watch you blow your own cocky brains out.”

“Ladies first,” Mysterion gestured to the criminal’s head with an amused smirk that widened at the sight of the gunman’s growing irritation.

He watched as the criminal lifted the gun to his head with his finger on the trigger before pausing, and it took all of his self-control to stop himself from laughing as he saw the man’s hand shaking--here was a grown man, threatening people with a weapon that he couldn’t even point at himself without feeling the same fear that he was instilling in others, yet Mysterion was at least one third his age and had already willingly shot himself in the head multiple times over the past few years alone.

“People who toy with other people’s lives should be ready to put their own life on the line,” Mysterion spoke after watching the man’s inner struggle for almost a minute. “Now pull the damn trigger, you pussy.”

The criminal’s eyes narrowed, his irritation growing at being talked down to by a child wearing his damn underwear over his pants, and his finger pressed down on the trigger before he could mentally talk himself out of this crazy game. The relief that washed over him when the shot was empty was quickly replaced by adrenaline as he laughed and tossed the gun to the masked boy. “Your turn, kid. Let’s see you back that tough talk of yours up.”

Mysterion calmly lifted the gun to his head, reveling in the man’s bewildered expression as he pulled the trigger with no hesitation or preamble, not even a flinch or a relieved breath of air slipping out as the gun fired another empty shot.

(Stan and Kyle, on the other hand, had enough fear when their friend lifted the gun to his head and enough relief rushing through them when an empty shot was fired to power a whole city, let alone to make up for Mysterion’s lack of concern.)

“Your turn,” Mysterion spoke with a satisfied smirk as he tossed the gun back to the criminal, who fumbled with it for a moment in shock before glaring at the cocky kid in front of him.

“You think you’re real hot shit, don’t you kid?” the man growled out, before grinning as he pointed the gun at Mysterion’s head, the barrel pressing in between his eyes. “How about I start playing this game by my own rules and keep shooting until the bullet is in your head?”

“If you think you can get away with it, then I’d like to see you try,” Mysterion goaded with a smirk. “Go ahead, pull the fucking trigger. I dare you.”

As soon as the gunman pulled the trigger and no bullet came out, Mysterion knew he’d won the game.

Before the man could pull the trigger again, Mysterion swept his leg out, knocking the man off of his feet and onto the ground before ripping the gun from his hand. He stepped on the man’s chest to pin him down as he aimed the gun at his head, his expression cold.

“Since you wasted your turn on me, that means I get to use my turn to shoot you.”

Mysterion could feel the weight of the gun in his hand, and he knew in his gut that this shot wouldn’t be empty like the others.

It was only the thought of Stan and Kyle watching from under a nearby table that caused Mysterion’s aim to change, and the shot that rang out made everyone save for the masked superhero flinch as the bullet pierced the criminal’s stomach.

“It’s too bad--if you’d only played fairly, that bullet would have been in my head instead,” he remarked with a satisfied smirk, before adding coldly, “Just keep this whole incident in mind the next time you decide to fuck with my town.”

“And don’t worry,” he added as an afterthought, as if it would be any sort of condolence to the man who was writhing on the floor in pain, “I made sure not to hit anything vital.”

Mysterion tossed the empty gun aside, and the sight of the weapon hitting the ground combined with the faint sound of approaching police sirens caused all of the hostages to let out a cheer as they rose from their hiding spots.

The masked superhero helped the hostages to the exit before going to speak with the police, giving his report on what had happened in the hostage situation and instructing them to call an ambulance for the bleeding criminal inside. He could feel Stan and Kyle’s gazes on his back as he moved back inside to help the police handcuff and carry out the gunman, and for some reason turning to face them after finally running out of things to keep him occupied felt more nerve-wracking than pointing a gun at his own head.

Mysterion winced at the looks on his friends’ faces (especially Kyle’s--he could look pretty damn intimidating when pissed off, just like his mother), and he was hardly even given the chance to open his mouth before Kyle shoved his backpack into his hands.

“Get changed.”

The command was clipped and left no room for argument, and Mysterion hurried away to do as he was told, feeling as if there was some sort of humorous irony in his friends being the one thing that could turn him from a confident, cocky superhero to a meek pre-teen preparing for the scolding of a lifetime. He mentally braced himself for one of Kyle’s long lectures as he slunk back over to his friends with his parka hood pulled tightly around his head, as if to physically protect him from the (justifiably) angry tirade that Kyle (and possibly Stan) was about to go on.

As if to drag out his torture, both of his friends said nothing as they dragged him out of Whistlin’ Willy’s and down the street, each of them holding one of his hands tightly enough that he began to worry that his blood circulation was being cut off. The walk back to Kyle’s house was filled with a tense silence that was only made worse by Kenny’s poor attempts to try and lighten the mood.

“So, uh… that date went pretty horribly, huh?”

“...”

“I think next time I’ll let you guys choose a place, my luck obviously isn’t too great.”

“Your luck seemed pretty good when you were holding that gun against your head,” Stan muttered, and Kenny winced, immediately falling quiet after that.

Kyle let go of Kenny’s hand only to unlock the front door, and Stan’s hold on him tightened in response, as if he were holding onto Kenny for the two of them.

“You know I’m not going to run, right? You can stop trying to crush my hand.”

Stan at least had the sense to look slightly sheepish as he relaxed his hold on Kenny’s hand, though he still didn’t let go until the three of them were inside and up in Kyle’s bedroom.

“Sit.”

Kyle pointed to the bed, and Kenny’s reflexive quip of “Do you want me to roll over and beg for a treat too?” only made Kyle’s irritation grow, so the blond quickly shut his mouth and sat down on the bed before his friend popped a blood vessel.

Stan stood with his back leaning against the closed door while Kyle paced back and forth, obviously trying to form words that didn’t devolve into incoherent frustrated yelling, and Kenny wisely held his tongue and waited for the inevitable explosion.

“What the hell were you thinking? Just answer me that.”

“Do you want the truth, or do you want me to tell you what you want to hear?” Kenny responded, flinching slightly as Kyle stopped pacing to glare at him but otherwise holding his gaze.

“You could have _died_ today, Kenny--and I know that obviously doesn’t mean much to you, but it means a hell of a lot to us!”

Kenny’s eyes narrowed, his own irritation beginning to flare up. “So what, I was just supposed to stay cowering under the table while that man threatened the lives of innocent people?”

“You were _supposed_ to just let the police handle it like everyone else!”

“The police don’t do shit and you know it!” Kenny exclaimed, and now it was Kyle’s turn to flinch backwards. “All the adults in this town are fucking morons, you can’t tell me you don’t already know that!”

“But--”

“If it wasn’t for me, people would be dead.” Kenny let that statement hang in the air for a moment before continuing to speak. “When we played superheroes together as kids, that’s all it was for you guys. Pretend. A _game_. But for me, for someone who can actually _do_ something to protect this shithole of a town and all the people in it that I care about, it was always more than just a game--it was a sense of purpose, something that turned this damned curse into something that I could almost be proud of.”

“Kenny….” Stan’s voice was soft, and he looked torn, wanting to move and comfort his friend but still sharing in the same hurt and frustration that Kyle was feeling.

“... That doesn’t mean you have to recklessly throw yourself into danger,” Kyle spoke after a moment, his voice slightly more subdued though still carrying hints of irritation. “How do you think we felt, watching you hold a gun to your head again? Watching that man point a gun at you, waiting and holding our breaths and praying that we wouldn’t see your blood flying everywhere and your lifeless body hitting the floor?”

Kenny’s expression relaxed into one of regret--not for his actions, Kyle knew without it needing to be said, but rather for scaring two of the people that he loved more than anything--and he moved off of the bed to pull Kyle into a hug, which Kyle reciprocated after a few seconds of prideful stubbornness.

“I’m sorry,” Kenny murmured. “It was the only thing I could think of to keep his attention on me, to make sure that he wouldn’t start threatening to hurt anyone else before the police arrived. I just want you to understand that I wasn’t carelessly throwing my life away; I knew exactly what I was doing, and I was in control of the situation the whole time.”

“And what would have happened if you hadn’t been? That was all luck, you had no idea when the bullet would come out--”

“I didn’t need to,” Kenny responded, and Kyle pulled back a bit to look at him in confusion with the slightest hint of curiosity, a matching expression on Stan’s face as he quickly dried his eyes and moved over to the two of them.

“How exactly did you have that situation under control?”

Kenny smiled and pulled the two of them down to sit with him on the bed, the slightest hint of smug pride on his face as he spoke. “The easiest way to deal with criminals is to beat them at their own game. If they’re using intimidation to get what they want, then all you have to do is turn things around and intimidate them.”

“You’re starting to sound like Cartman,” Kyle muttered.

Kenny laughed. “Who the hell do you think I learned it from? He’s an asshole, but you’ve got to admit, he’s got manipulation down to an art.”

Stan rolled his eyes in amusement. “Don’t say that to him, you’ll make his head even bigger than it already is.”

“Yeah, that fatass takes up enough room as it is without adding in a bloated ego,” Kyle added dryly.

The three of them shared an amused grin, the tension beginning to melt away as Kyle and Stan leaned against Kenny, who pulled them both closer to him in turn.

“That doesn’t explain how you were so confident with that gun,” Stan said after a moment, eyeing him curiously. “Don’t tell me that was all manipulation too.”

“It’s impossible to manipulate something like that, it’s all probability and luck,” Kyle responded with the slightest hint of annoyance, as if offended by the idea of something as illogical as controlling when the gun fired a bullet instead of an empty shot.

“True, but manipulating the person _holding_ the gun is a whole other matter. It was still risky,” he added quickly when Kyle shot him an irritated look, “but it gave me the opportunity I needed to disarm him.”

Kyle let out a huff and buried his face against Kenny’s parka. “Just don’t go doing something stupidly reckless like that again. I think I lost a couple of years off my life just watching you.”

Stan laughed weakly. “I think we both did, dude.”

“Sorry,” Kenny replied with a grimace, before kissing Stan’s forehead and the top of Kyle’s head. “I can’t promise that I won’t put myself in danger again, but I can at least promise to be careful and not let myself die so easily.”

“I guess that’s the best we can hope for,” Stan conceded, and though Kyle still wasn’t pleased, Kenny felt him nod in agreement against his chest.

“... So, since we didn’t get to eat, who wants to order a pizza and watch shitty movies all night?” Kenny suggested after a moment, taking the opportunity to give Kyle a quick peck on the lips when the red-haired boy looked up at him and pressing a light kiss to Stan’s lips as well before giving them both a grin. “My treat.”

“That sounds great,” Stan agreed, already looking forward to lounging on the couch after a stressful night.

Kyle looked like he wanted to argue out of sheer stubbornness that Kenny wasn’t out of the woods just yet and that he was still irritated with him, but the loud growling of his stomach gave away his true feelings about Kenny’s suggestion, and he blushed heavily as both Kenny and Stan laughed. “Okay, fine, pizza and movies, at home, where we’re all safe and no one’s in danger of shooting themselves in the head. Sounds good.”

Kenny was relieved to catch a hint of sardonic humor in Kyle’s tone, and he had a feeling that his own sense of dark humor would quickly end up rubbing off on him, for better or for worse. For now, though, Kenny was content to enjoy the moment as he pressed another kiss to Kyle’s lips before grinning widely, an expression that Kyle found himself imitating without realizing as the corners of his lips twitched upwards into a smile.

As the three of them disentangled themselves and got off the bed to go downstairs, Stan and Kyle met each other’s eyes, a silent conversation passing between the two of them once more before they both moved to either side of Kenny, stopping him before he could reach the stairs.

Before Kenny could ask them what was wrong, Stan and Kyle leaned in at the same time and pressed a kiss to both of his cheeks, and any words he may have had immediately died on his tongue.

“We didn’t really thank you for saving our lives back there, so… thank you,” Stan explained.

“Sorry for going off on you, but seriously… thank you for protecting us,” Kyle said, before quickly adding, “I’m still not happy that you put yourself in danger to do it, but--wait, Kenny, are you crying?”

Kenny blinked away tears, his face flushed as he quickly rubbed his eyes. “Dude, you two can’t just go and spring that on me out of nowhere like that.” Before either of them could say anything, he added, “Do you know how long I’ve fantasized about you two kissing me like that? I can’t tell if I’m going to pop a boner or cry. I might do both.”

Stan and Kyle stared at Kenny for a moment before beginning to laugh, and Kenny laughed as well despite the very real tears in the corners of his eyes as he wrapped an arm around each of his friends and pulled them into a hug, which they happily reciprocated as they simultaneously indulged him in another kiss on each cheek.

“Dude, I’m pretty sure I actually died back there and went to Heaven or something. Only thing that would make it perfect is if you guys had boobs.”

Kenny moved as if trying to peer down Stan’s shirt, and Stan rolled his eyes and lightly shoved Kenny’s face away from his chest. “If you want a guy with boobs, then just go to Cartman.”

Kyle choked out a laugh while Kenny snorted and rolled his eyes. “Thanks but no thanks, I’m not _that_ desperate.”

They reluctantly pulled apart once more so they could walk down the stairs without tripping over one another, but as soon as the pizza was ordered and they were laid out on the couch, they wasted no time in curling up against one another in a comfortably tangled bundle of limbs as Kyle turned on the television and started browsing through movies for them to choose from.

“Were you serious about that being one of your fantasies?” Stan randomly asked once they were halfway through a box of pizza, some action-comedy movie that they’d randomly decided on serving as background noise.

It took a moment for Kenny to understand what Stan was asking, but when he did, both Stan and Kyle were surprised to see Kenny’s face flushing lightly.

“Promise you two won’t laugh?” Kenny asked, resisting the urge to hide in his parka--joking around was one thing, but he was never any good at being honest about his feelings, so he was relieved when Stan and Kyle both nodded with gentle expressions. “... It wasn’t entirely the part about you two kissing me--though it was both adorable and arousing having you two kiss me at the same time like that,” he added with a grin, enjoying the light blushes on their faces for a moment before continuing. “It was… well, it was you two thanking me.”

“Thanking you?”

“For protecting you guys,” Kenny clarified, his gaze shifting to the empty plate on his lap in embarrassment. “That’s all I ever really wanted, ever since we were kids. I mean, I always knew I kind of liked both of you as more than just friends--and I mean I liked girls too, and I always assumed that you two would end up together so I never really bothered trying to get in the middle of that since I didn’t want to make things awkward--but, well… I fought hard as Mysterion to protect people not only because I want to protect this town, but because I wanted to make sure you two could sleep soundly at night. I’d….” He hesitated for a moment before forcing himself to continue. “I’d fantasize sometimes, about protecting you two in particular, back before we started playing superheroes together and you learned my identity: swooping down to save you guys, watching your faces light up when you realized that your boring old friend Kenny had been fighting crime all this time as Mysterion, listening to you guys thank me for protecting you and talk about how cool it was that you knew an actual superhero, and--you know what I’m just going to stop talking now,” he rushed out the last part as he pulled his hood tightly shut, hiding his bright red face in embarrassment.

“Kenny… Kenny, dude, that’s so sweet,” Stan said after a minute of silence, and it was only then that Kenny belatedly realized that one of them had muted the TV while he was talking, making his embarrassment grow even more as he sunk into his parka.

“It’s not sweet, it’s stupid and childish,” came his muffled reply, and though he wanted to keep hiding in his parka forever, he didn’t stop the two hands that gently gripped the hood of his parka from pulling it open, revealing Kyle and Stan both looking at him with a soft smile.

“It is sweet,” Kyle began, cupping Kenny’s flushed cheeks in his hands and pressing a light kiss to his lips before pulling back with an affectionate grin. “All this time, we’ve had our own personal superhero, and we never even knew it.”

“Yeah, that really is pretty cool,” Stan added with a grin of his own, leaning forward and capturing Kenny’s lips briefly before kissing the tip of Kenny’s nose. “Our hero Kenny.”

“Guys, seriously, you’re being so gay and it’s going to make me cry,” Kenny choked out, as if he wasn’t already crying, and he laughed along with Stan and Kyle as they hugged him.

They continued to lay in a tangled heap on the couch even as they unmuted the movie, the sound serving as background noise as the three of them continued laughing and teasing each other with affectionate touches and kisses until they began to doze off.

Kenny felt a blanket being draped over the three of them in his half-asleep state, assuming that it was one of Kyle’s parents as he could still feel Stan and Kyle both pressed up against him, and he allowed himself to drift off into a peaceful, deep sleep with a content smile on his face.

He might have been cursed from birth, and that curse might have brought him nothing but pain and suffering over the years, but right now, laying in the arms of his two best friends, Kenny McCormick felt like the most blessed person in the world.


End file.
